


and we chase our better natures

by liasangria, thescyfychannel



Series: Better Natures [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Borrowing Your Sibling's Body Is Usually Not Okay, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Consensual Possession, Especially Not Borrowing It For Makeouts, Multi, Possession, aspect swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liasangria/pseuds/liasangria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Cronus lost his younger brother a really damn long time ago—almost long enough that he's over it.Eridan, however, hasn't been over it for the past few years—and now that Cronus has finally found a coven in Feferi Peixes and Sollux Captor, it might be his chance to let Cronus know he's not quite as lost as he seems.





	1. til we find our better selves

**Author's Note:**

> with MAJOR thanks to The_Shame_Basement, for all the beta work they've done

You wake up, as you always do, to an apartment full of plants and the heavy weight of regret.

It sits on your chest the way you imagine stones would, the way you imagine death might, and sometimes—some nights, usually—you picture it as the weight of a coffin covered in earth, slowly slowly slowly pressing you down until you're no more than a part of it.

You usually wake up drenched in sweat, those nights, and you're pathetically grateful that your shitty apartment's rent covers a washer and dryer.

Mornings follow their own steady routine: the plants get their watering, the room gets an airing, and you stand on the balcony and debate the merits of a cigarette. Some days you win, some days you lose. You're careful with your life, now, though. More careful than you ever were—you've learned to be, you've had to be. It sucks, shit sucks, but hell, so does everything else in this life.

And after you finish moping, you head out to search up some coffee before you keel over. You’ve got some free time, and you use the opportunity to stroll through your neighborhood, stopping to greet every cute floof you meet, dog and cat alike. You’ll admit that you’re a little more biased towards the adorable doggos you see (you even carry homemade treats, like the giant lame sap you secretly are), but hey, a cute animal is a cute animal. Plus, updating your animal Insta (@haveyouseenthisgooddog) gives you something to do between waking up and going to work.

The one thing you've got going for you is that you're _really_ good at what you do. People can't usually make a career out of music, as everyone likes to tell you. You know it's true, you've seen too many washed up dropouts to argue with the statement, but you've managed so far. Music, a little bit of bussing tables on the side, that kind of thing—you don't really _need_ the side job at this point, but you like being busy better than you like having free time and it's enough to keep you in those little luxuries that an Ampora's accustomed to.

 

Speaking of Amporas.

 

One thing you'd never quite become accustomed to was the tug. Pretty much every type of practitioner felt it, no matter how powerful or how weak they were, but the more power you had, the more often you had them and the stronger they could be. And, well. Amporas were built to be powerhouses, you'd been taught that right out of the cradle.

So when something yanked you so hard you nearly spun about, you turned on a dime and obeyed, forgoing your usual coffee stop in favor of ducking into a little place you'd only dropped in on once or twice since its grand opening.

Luminous was a sweet little café attached to a nursery with a penchant for punny names—Bloominous Nursery. You couldn't help but cringe a little internally whenever you saw the business cards tacked up on the walls of other plant-centric wix havens, but the café itself wasn't so bad. It lived up to its name, quietly lit from within by wix spells and fairy lights. Plants line the walls, the tables, the ceiling—and cute little price tags hang off of each and every one. You're immediately drawn to the succulent section—then further on, to a display of flowers.

You're not sure how or why you ended up being the only Ampora with a green thumb. None of your cousins had a thing for plants, but your mother had liked the help in her garden, and you'd been able to—when you put the effort in—make tomatoes grow huge and flowers bloom brighter. You didn't mind the work, and it was better than what happened when you half-assed it.

A lot better.

It was something to do, and it was a chance to _encourage_ life, instead of fuckin' ruin it like you usually did.

Speaking of ruining.

 

The first time you heard her voice, it was like someone had dragged fingertips down your spine—and you weren't sure how to feel about any of it, or any of her— _judgin’ sight unseen again, are we now_ —until you turned and saw those bright brown eyes.

"Moonflowers, morning glories, snowdrops, and hydrangeas? You have eclectic taste." Her name tag cheerfully declares her to be _Feferi!_ and you swallow hard, looking her over—god, you've gotta be, what, a foot taller? More than? "Need help? You kinda look like you know what you're doing, though—"

"No, I, uh—there's—"

Feferi frowns, tips her head, and leans past you to see what you mean—the purple spots all over the bonsai hydrangea you were examining become more apparent when her hand fills with wixlight. "Oh, damn. Thank you for catching it!"

"Yeah, a'course," you manage, and blink at her. Twice.  _You are the most eloquent, it is you._

She gives you a wink, and you're about certain you're gonna die right there and then. "How much floriography do you know?"

"All of it," you say, in such a rush that you're not sure she actually understands you. "Uh, I mean. I studied—I studied botany, an' some history, at university—"

"Breathe," she tells you cheerfully, and scoops the hydrangea up. "It's always good to meet another plant lover! Did you want any actual food, or were you just here to look at plants?"

You're embarrassed, and embarrassing yourself further. "Uh. Coffee?" _Fuck's sake, Cro, if you want her number at least try to go for some food or an actual plant._ "And the hydrangea."

You're not sure why you said that. You're not sure if she knows why you said that, because she gives you a certain sort of look, and her expression goes carefully blank. "It's a sick plant," she says, all the tone of a gentle reminder, and you nod immediately.

"I'm good with plants. An' I'm not anglin' for a discount, I swear."

You give her a moment to think it over, waiting, and trying not to show how anxious you are. "Tell you what," she finally says, and you feel like you can breathe again. Bargains. You can handle bargains. "Take a seat at the counter, give me a real coffee order, and we'll get you sorted out. No discounts, but how about something edible to go with that coffee, huh?"

 _Thank fuckin' hell someone has some sense around here._ You manage a grateful smile that's almost as charming as your usual flirtatious one. "Thanks."

Feferi heads off to behind the counter, bringing the little hydrangea with her, and you close your eyes for a moment, fixing the image of her and her first words to you in your head. _Moonflowers, morning glories, snowdrops, and hydrangeas—dreaming of love, love in vain, consolation or hope, and frigidness or heartlessness._ You pause. That's not _entirely_ right. You think.

Better than that: you can ask.

 

When you drop down into a seat at the counter, Feferi gives you a smile, and it almost makes you forget that you'd been an idiot earlier. Your nearest neighbor at this end of the crowded counter is hunched over his drink and phone with a focus that takes you right back to college, and you forego a greeting in favor of not bothering the guy as Feferi takes your order.

It doesn't take her long to finish up and come back with some kind of red...you think they’re churros, of all things. When she does return, you've managed to turn the charm back up to eleven. An easy smile, and a nod at the hydrangea she's holding, along with your receipt—"I might've lied. I can't remember that last meanin', for hydrangeas? Frigidness, heartlessness, an'—"

"Heartfelt gratitude for being understood," she and your allegedly distracted neighbor buddy answer at the exact same time.

You blink at him.

She blinks at him.

He blinks up at both of you.

"Ah,” he says, “shit."

Then he drops a tip on the table, scrambles for his backpack and coffee, and bolts.

 

You've got a feeling that shit's about to get really, _really_ weird.

 

Feferi seemed as spooked as you were after that. You hadn't bothered to try flirting any more, not with the way she'd looked—as if she'd seen a ghost, _hah_ —you'd paid your tab for the second coffee you got for the road, tipped her well, and headed on out with your bonsai hydrangea in hand.

When you'd gotten back home, to drop off the newly dubbed Taing, your phone displayed three texts from work: you've gotten an unexpected day off.

Your usual boss ran his restaurant according to his own hours, and customers learned to deal with that or clear off. This week, it seemed, his husband wanted to take advantage of the good weather and head on up to the cabin with their massive Newfoundland (Cocoa Bean, a sweet boof who still thought she was a tiny woof), and he was willing to give you time off with half-pay if you'd go and check on things at the restaurant once a day. Not a bad deal.

 

[sure thing, boss.]

[You're a good kid. Have a dog photo.]

 

You do your best not to swoon over the cute pupper, and save the photo to your growing Cocoa Bean album.

 

All the free time means you'll have more of a chance to look after your plants properly, instead of doing a cursory check, and by the time you finish with your rounds and get Taing all set up, most of the purple spots are gone. You're a tiny bit smug about that.

Of course, there's only so much that you can do with that much free time, beyond pondering the riddle of Feferi and your new café buddy. You hadn't even had a chance to think about that; honestly, if you were anyone else, it might've just been a random moment of coincidence. But you'd _felt_ something—it was the flow of magic, running between the three of you like the closest current, and you were of an uncertain mind.

It wouldn't be so bad to have some kind of connection. The urge to build a coven had run through you once—back when you were young and naïve and hadn't come into as many of your faults and flaws.

Now you knew better, far better. You aren’t the sort to risk a potential partner's life just for the sake of a magical boost.

Not even if Feferi's voice sounded like the sweetest music you'd never play. Not even if that kid in the café had mismatched eyes as intriguing as a brand new spell.

 

Fuck. You're a mess and you already know it.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, you end up napping, sprawled across the couch, and you don't know how or why.

It's the same dream—or at least, it starts the same way. There's only one thing you can thank your nightmares for: their loving rendition of Eridan ages just as he would, and if it's your only chance to see your little brother again, you're grateful you get to see what he would've looked like as he grew.

"Hey," you start, because these fucking dreams always go the same way. You'll say something. You'll try to apologize. He'll cut you off and insult you, try to tell you something that sounds like it's coming from underwater. You'll ask him to explain. He'll swear, then change the topic. And you won't question it, won't push him, because you're already drowning in your own guilt.

"You need to go back to the café," he says, and you blink, just as startled as you'd been when you'd heard _heartfelt gratitude for being understood_ said back to you in doubled voices with an undertone-echo of something _else_.

"Uh. What?"

"Are you fuckin' deaf, Cro? Because I know you're not dead, big bro." Eridan's eyes narrow, behind glasses that suit his face—when had he switched out the old frames? Fuck, you're missing shit—and he jerks his head towards…something, an indistinct existence that you can't get a clear read on no matter your focus. "You need to go back to the café."

"An' why the fuck would I do that? It ain't even likely that they'll let me back in, considering how much of a fright I gave that poor girl." Even as you argue, part of you—part of you feels light, lighter, like maybe, _maybe_ , if Eridan's telling you to go back, even in a dream, you'll have a reason even more than your desire. An actual _purpose_ , more than an excuse. 

"If you'd been payin' attention, you'd have realized 'that poor girl' is a fuckin' _Peixes_." Your eyes go wide, and he nods, like he's finally getting through to you. "Now—"

 

You're awake and on your feet even before he finishes, unaware of how you got there, and his words hang unspoken in the distance between you. _Go._


	2. we'll be waiting come the morning

You make it to the door of Luminous before you start to second guess yourself. Really, though, it's not surprising—you've been living with Eridan as the face and voice of your conscience and subconscious for so long that you're honestly amazed you haven't learned to tune him out yet.

"The fuck am I doin'," you mutter, as you stand outside the door, looking in. You can't see Feferi Peixes any more than you can see the other kid, but the glass is enough a shade of shadowed that you can see your own face. You've learned to hate how much you look like your father.

 

"Blocking the doorway," someone says, and you freeze up at the sound of a voice that shouldn't be familiar.

When you turn around, it's heterochromia kid, and he raises an expectant eyebrow at you. "Uh."

Now he snorts, and you feel your face burn. "Wow, you're articulate, I'm incredibly awed. Are you going in or not?"

"Look," you say, and try to tamp down on the anger that follows close after the first flush of shame. "I didn't expect to see you here, aye?"

"Sure, aye, whatever— _look yourself,_ I know you felt it too, and with FF—uh, with the, barista, I mean—"

It's your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Nicknames already, huh?"

" _Shut up,_ " he hisses, and shoves past you, heading into the café. There's nothing left for you to do but grin and follow.

 

Feferi's waiting for the both of you two, it seems, sitting at one of the tables with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. She's staring into its depths, still, with an almost haunted look, and when the kid takes a seat at the table, her head snaps up. "Sollux," she says, and it doesn't hurt at all, not in the least, that she looks relieved to see him. And then it really doesn't hurt when she turns that same look on you next. "Cronus, right? I—I looked at the slip—"

"I'm not gonna tell your boss, doll, don't worry." You give her an easy grin and drop down into the other seat.

Sollux, meanwhile, is doing an excellent impression of your average teenager. He's got the eyeroll down pat, and you flip him off as you haul your bag into your lap. "Real mature, names like that, crude gestures, I'm sure everyone out here wants to be in your coven, Ampora—"

Your blood runs cold, icy, even, at his words. "How the fuck did you know—"

"You've got violet eyes, and you didn’t finish dyeing your roots."

He doesn't look rattled at all, in spite of the fact that your hands are gripping the table hard, in spite of the quiet rumble your fear-spiked magic pulls from hard stone. Feferi, on the other hand, looks shaken, and you force yourself to settle back into your seat. "…sorry. Sorry, I—listen, I ain't an Ampora. Leastways, not officially. Not anymore."

The guilt that flashes in his eyes is mixed with something you can't read. It's utterly recognizable, though, a look you've worn yourself—mixed shame and hidden shit you'd rather the world not see just yet. "Right, uh, yeah, I get that—a little, I mean, uh." His shoulders draw in, and he ducks his head. "It's not really the same I guess, but, I get it."

"I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised that my future coven would be made up of outcasts." Feferi manages a brief smile, and takes a sip from her mug. "I got kicked out of my family too, right after I graduated from college."

"Mine asked me to go, but like, politely, I guess. They still help me out with bills, I'm just." Sollux shrugs, with one shoulder. "Bad for business, maybe. They're used to uncontrollable magic, but they weren't ready for the _type_ of uncontrollable magic that I had."

Feferi leans against him for a moment, companionable silence. "Didn't have enough of the killer instinct, and then I was…a liability, I guess. Wrong type of magic, which is kinda funny, if you think about it."

The both of them—they're so fuckin' _young_ , or at least they look it and seem it—look at you, expectantly, and you swallow hard. "I'd. I'd prefer not to talk about all a’ it. But—I had the wrong sort a’ magic, an' pulled the wrong sort a shit, an' caused enough destruction that they eventually kicked me out. Been on my own for a while now."

You're pretty sure they're both curious, but thank the gods, neither of them try to pry any further in. "If you ever want to talk about it," says Feferi, and she reaches out to set a gentle hand on your arm, "we're here."

You're not sure she should be making promises for the Captor kid—because it's taken two seconds and a closer look to realize that's exactly his line—but you're, well. Kind of a mess, and you'll fucking take it, honestly. You give her a grateful look, and it's only because she beams first at you, then at Sollux, that you realize he'd—nodded, or something, indicated his agreement in some way that you'd missed. Fuck. You're not gonna get emotional.

"Oh my god, dude, are you _crying_."

"I could kick your twink ass six ways to Sunday, Captor, don't even think about saying shit."

And then he actually laughs, and so does Feferi, and you can't help but join in a little too.

Based on how cagey Captor is, how gunshy this particular Peixes is turning out to be, you're a little surprised that they take to the idea of a coven so quickly. Over lunch, they explain things to you: they'd always kind of known that they were meant to work together, and they'd been waiting on a third: you.

"Of course, we didn't know it was you, but we'd never met you!" Feferi is cheerful and bright; she leans across you and over Sollux easily, stealing bites from both of your plates with such a brilliant smile that you can't help but fluster in her wake. "You can't really fault us for panicking a little bit! That was a really strong reaction, you know? And we don't expect anything like _that_ , that's like, straight out of those cheesy coven romance novels."

"Oh, uh. Yeah, I suppose you're right." Okay. Now you're blushing. Captor's giving you an amused look, like he can tell exactly how Peixes leaning across your body is getting to you. "Uh."

Sollux’s smirk grows. "She's always like that, you'll get used to it."

"Hm?" Feferi perks the fuck up, and he flashes her something that might be nearly approaching a smile. Fuck. God. They're so fuckin' cute, you...yeah, you kinda wanna do this. Set up the whole damn coven thing. Actually try and, well, protect them. You really, _really_ want to do this.

Which is why you know you absolutely can't.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," you say, because, well. Fucking hell. If you think about it, if you really think about it, you absolutely cannot do this, by any means. You can't put them in the line of fire, you can't do that shit to them, not when you know you're a godsdamn death curse. "I don't know if—I don't know if this is something you're going to want to agree to. Or if it's something you _should_ agree to, y'know?"

They both set their food down—your food, in the case of Peixes—and _look_ at you. "And why is that?"

You think you'd be used to the two of them saying shit in synch by now.

"I don't know if I really want to talk about it," you say, and as much as you hope that's gonna be the end of it, you know it's not.

It's _really_ not. Two chairs make that quiet little wicker-against-stone noise as they scoot in on either side of you, and you're very much reminded of large animals stalking prey. "You're gonna need to give us a better answer, dude," Sollux says, and you do your best not to look into his pretty, _pretty_ mismatched eyes.

"Like, sure! If you can't, you can't, but we'd love to know why, you know?" Why the fuck are they so cute. You have regrets. You shouldn't have come back here.

"...it's complicated?"

"It's always complicated, Ampora! Come on. What's making it complicated? Why is it complicated? Is there something, someone, making it complicated for you?" She's so fucking earnest.

And okay, honestly? You don't do well with this kind of shit. You can't always handle people caring at you. You don't—

You don't know what to do.

Of course you snap. It makes sense. That's what you do when you're mad. You destroy things that are supposed to be good for you.

 

"Right now, _you_ are," you say, and you shove out of the chair and storm out of there.


	3. carry on and in good health

It's been three days since you turned down their proposal, and Feferi hasn't let up for even a moment. You'd be upset at it if it didn't make you feel actually...wanted.

Of course, you regret that feeling when a notification pops up on your desktop that's not any actual kind of notification at all.

One thing you didn't know about Sollux Captor—that is to say, one thing you didn't realize about Sollux Captor—is that when he said he was good with computers, that he worked with them, worked on them in his free time, he didn't mean it was just for fun. Oh no. Oh, _fuck_. The kid's a _hacker_ , and a good fucking one too, because that's a _goddamn Microsoft Word document_ and the text popping up in it is a hue of yellow that you never use if you can help it.

 

[dude iif you keep iignoriing FF we're gonna have a fuckiing problem.]

 

You're a little bit offended. You have a _phone_. He has your _number_ , much as you regret giving it to him and Feferi (mostly Feferi, from whom you have about fifty unread texts) already.

But you also haven't responded to any of Feferi's texts or calls, so you maybe—kind of, a little bit—get it.

That doesn't stop you from shutting down the document, and that doesn't stop _him_ from shutting down everything else on your laptop, reopening the document, and locking all of your commands. Fucker.

 

[ii wa2n't really planniing on doiing thii2 but ngl ampora ii wiill not he2iitate two hold your 2hiit ho2tage.]

[an2wer your goddamn phone or the laptop get2 iit.]

 

Okay. You can't help it. Imaging that twinky 6'4 kid trying to threaten you? It makes you laugh, for the first time in a damn long time.

 

[ehehe. niice laugh.]

 

You slam your laptop shut and call Feferi. Immediately.

 

 

The next time the three of you meet, at a restaurant outside of Sollux's workplace, you try to ignore the smug look he's wearing. "I'm on my lunch break, so we have to be quick," he says, sliding into the booth next to you. You regret letting Feferi choose the seating, and even more than that, you regret letting them get a chance to box you in like this. They're tiny, you could definitely take them.

The fact that you kind of want to let them win this fight is a secret that you're going to take to the grave. _Not to their graves,_ says the shitty little part of you that sometimes sounds like Eridan. _Stop freakin' out._ When Feferi gives you a smile, you realize that you hadn't heard that part of you in a while, and—and even weirder than that, you'd kind of missed it.

 

Gods, there's gotta be something _really_ fuckin' wrong with you.

 

"How quick is quick?" Is she flirting with him— _she's fucking flirting with him, the wait staff hasn't even brought the menus_ —and you flush brighter, slipping down in your seat as you try to ignore them. "Because I already ordered for all three of us!"

Shit. Okay. You _do_ remember her getting here before you, she'd been waiting at the table and everything. "Hey, wait—"

"Don't worry," Feferi says to you, her tone soothing enough that you nearly fall for it, "I had a feeling I'd know what you'd like."

And fuck, you really can't argue there, can you? Not when this sorta shit's all about feeling things out. Gods. You're so fucking screwed. "Okay," you mumble, and duck your head, and you somehow manage to go even more red when they pat your shoulders like they're all _proud_ of you.

There's a bit of chatter while you're all waiting for the food to come, and you stare at your hands as you're mentally berating yourself. _Holy fuck, Cro, they actually want you around. Like, they legitimately are puttin' in an effort to involve you an' keep you here. Are you really tellin' me you wanna screw this up on account a’ some stupid assumed guilt over a failure that isn't even yours to begin with?_

You've learned to just shut up and let the words roll over you like water, but—

Feferi frowns, at you, above you, and Sollux does the same. On some unspoken agreement, seating gets shifted around a little bit more, and now there's enough space for a person between you and Sollux. You try not to think about how you already sort of miss his warmth.

"No, that's not right," Feferi murmurs, then nods across the way—for some reason, she'd had a passing waitress pull a chair up to the other side of the table that none of you are near—and Sollux shifts back in.

You're about to question her, when he gently nudges you, and you look—

Holy shit. Holy fuckin' shit.

_You don't believe in ghosts, you don't believe in ghosts, you don't believe in ghosts—_

"—and I'm really gettin' tired a you tryin' to repeat that to yourself, Cro, it's been like, fuck, eleven years already—"

The indistinct figure of your baby brother stops mid rant, and blinks, as if he's surprised by the sound of his own voice. "Huh. Well that's new."

And then you pass out, which is really a mercy, because you're not sure you could take any more of this kind of shit today.

 

* * *

 

When you come to, you're in Feferi's car.

She's got the music on low, and when you start to stir, she glances over at you. The sigh of relief you see is entirely unfeigned. "Right. Okay. Good, you're okay, that's—that's good."

You immediately sit up and half-reach for her, in about as awkward a way as you can manage. In any other situation, you'd be entirely fucking embarrassed to be so uncool, but she pulls over to the side of the road and throws herself into your arms as much as the seatbelt will allow and you just sit there and _hold_ her while she tries to calm down from freaking the fuck out.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"Hey, shh, Fef—c'mon, doll, you've got no call to apologize to me—"

Instead of letting you finish, she unbuckles her belt and somehow she's over the console and in your lap before you know it and you're _really_ glad she'd been driving through a residential area, because you've got a feeling that you're not going anywhere any time soon.

And then she reaches up and cups your face and your heart kinda _stops_ as you look into those big brown eyes and for one wild moment you _really think she's gonna kiss you—_

"I do have call to apologize to you," she says, as you swallow hard and try not to think about how close she is and how she'd probably taste sweet as the yuzu soda she'd been sipping on, when she continues with: "Because using you for magic without your express consent is _shitty_."

 

What.

"What."

"Your brother," she says, and it's the shittiest explanation ever and makes complete sense, all at once. Fuck. _Fuck_.

"Oh, fuck." Instead of chiding you for not being helpful, Feferi nods and shifts in your arms. When she tries to pull away completely, you tighten your grip for a moment—then feel like a dick, and let her go.

When she decides to stay, relief floods you.

"What—what do you know about my brother?" You've decided: whatever she says, you're going to be okay with it. You're not going to panic, you're not going to lose your shit, you're going to be calm and cool and collected, even if she tells you that she and Sollux want you to get the fuck out of here and never darken their doorsteps again. _Gods, you're so fuckin' dramatic._

"Well, he's haunting you—no, that's not the right word. He's...tied to you? Bound, but not in a negative way." She hums to herself, thinking. "It's like his soul, and a bit more than that, has been tethered to you. Usually that would be indicative of a haunting or a curse, or some negative business with the target, but he seems very well-disposed towards you? Did you two get along well?"

"We, we fought, y'know, brotherly shit." _And you were a raging asshole._ "But he shouldn't be well-disposed towards me, or whatever fucking else you think he might be. I fuckin' _killed_ him."

 _No, you didn't._ Only—only, this time you say it out loud, and you hear that echo-undertone of Eridan's voice, and Feferi's giving you a look like she's been waiting for you to come to some grand conclusion and you've finally reached it. _Fuckin' finally is right._

 

It's about everything you can do not to pass out again.

 

* * *

 

Feferi takes you home, after that, with a promise to help you sort this shit out. Sollux, she says, had to get back to work, but he has plans to be in contact with you ASAP. They'd apparently taken advantage of you being unconscious to work out a plan for the three of you— _four_ of you—to meet up, and you'd be more upset if you had any emotional space to be upset about being left out of a coven you didn't even know you already had.

Fucking hell. You have a coven.

Fucking _hell_. Your baby brother's not dead.

Sort of.

 

It's a thing you've refused to think about, during all of Feferi's fussing, but now that you're alone, you're left to face up to it. Whatever happened to Eridan, he doesn't think it's your fault, and you only know that because some part of him—some rather _large_ part, according to Feferi and Sollux—is around to tell you so. Once you've been bundled into bed, you stare up the ceiling and wonder.

It would explain a few things, if you dared to let yourself believe it, to hope for even a second that it might be true or real or _possible_. The grades in history class. Those times you thought you'd dozed off in the middle of studying, but woke up remembering everything anyway. All of the little moments you'd thought were your conscience or whatever giving you grief via his voice.

 

It's almost too much to hope that it was him all along.

But now you're starting to.

 

When you find yourself in bed again, staring up at the ceiling, wondering. What if he'd never left? What if—incorrectly—he didn't blame you for what happened at all? _You're bein' fuckin' stupid again, okay?_

"I have no idea if that's you or the part a my brain that sounds like you an' berates me for bein' a fuckin' dumbass when I'm bein' a fuckin' dumbass, you know."

_Wow. No wonder you're not the smart one._

"Considering how ambiguous you make it, it ain't my fault!"

Actually, thinking back—you're not sure _why_ he kept it as unclear as he did. You can hazard a couple of guesses: Dan hated having the limelight on him, always had, since he started surpassing you as a child, but. But.

Why the hell would your dead brother even _want_ to hide in your own head?

 _I didn't want to,_ he says, and it's the first time you can distinctly hear it as him, tell that it's him, when he's not fucking manifesting outside of you in the real world with the help of your coven. _I tried tellin' you, hundreds, thousands a’ times, but you kept rejectin' the information. Like you couldn't handle it bein' true or somethin'._

Oh. "Can you read my mind?"

_I'm fuckin' in your mind Cro I got shit all else to read unless you deign to crack open a book or doze off into a daze for long enough to let me do whatever I want._

"…are you saying you can possess me?" Hm. You're…really not sure how you feel about that one, actually.

_Can an' have. I don't usually get involved, though, unless—well, your tests, for one, I didn't particularly care to retake 'em again._

"Fair enough," you mumble, and run a hand through your hair, trying to edge around contemplating what you've been trying not to contemplate this entire time.

 _No,_ he says, and he sounds very amused, _I haven't ever taken over while you were havin' sex with someone. Based on all technicalities, yes, Cro, I'm still a fuckin' virgin, thanks ever so for askin'._

That is slander and you are indignant. "I didn't ask!"

_You thought about askin' an' we both know that counts._

 

There's a pause, a hesitation, before he adds: _An' yeah. You can feel my attraction to people, unless I work at keepin' it separate, an' I usually do, unless you want them too. To be fair, we've got pretty similar taste. Uh. Is that weird? I'm…probably not the best judge a what's weird an' what isn't anymore._

"Nah, chief, it's fine. You're fine. Promise." It's so much like old times that your heart aches, and you have to take a moment to regain your lost ground. "So, uh. Fef, an' Sol."

 _Yeah,_ he says, and you can feel the guilt you'd usually blame yourself for rolling off of him. _I like them too._

Another painful emotional twinge, and you do your best to assuage his worries somehow. "Hey, c'mon, I mean—we're…sorta sharin' space right now, yeah? So that works out, it's like a fuckin', I don't know, two for one deal."

For the first time in far too many goddamn years, you hear your brother's laughter.

_I don't think that's how it works, you fuckin' bisexual disaster._

 

It's not, and you know it's not, but hell, if it'll make him laugh—if it'll make him _happy_ —you'll sort it out.

 

Somehow.


	4. and when we've finally come full circle

The official summons to a proper coven meeting comes the day after your first full day with Eridan. You'd spent all of that—and the rest of the day previous—pestering him for more information about what was going on, as well as all of the answers he was able to give. He'd done his best before declaring on the third day, not long before the official summons came, that you were a pain in the ass that could either shut up and leave him alone or put on something he wanted to watch for a change and ask questions _between_ episodes.

You'd gone with the second, and he'd settled on a documentary that you had been a little curious about before you’d abandoned it in favor of the new season of _Outlander_. "…how much a my taste in media is you and how much is me?"

_So uh, this is definitely one a the very VERY few areas, I want to emphasize how few an' unimportant they were, where I did, in fact, try to influence you directly._

You snort; this is nothing new. Even when he was a fuckin' toddler Danny knew what he wanted to watch or read and he'd raise a fuss until he got to. "Uh huh. And how'd that work out for you?"

 _Pretty fuckin' well, you're hooked on_ Outlander _, aren't you?_

"For your information, Dan, I would've liked it without your influence. I'm guessing the documentaries are you, though, yeah?"

_Yeah. An' for the record, uh—I really am sorry about…everythin'. All the shit I influenced or changed or—_

"Eridan," you say, interrupting the litany of self-recrimination. It's so much easier now that you know it's his coming from him, instead of yours directed at you. "Did you ever do it with the intent to hurt me?"

_What? No, fuck no, Cro—_

"Did you have any other way you could interact or communicate with the world? Can you say you made an honest effort to talk to me one on one first?"

_I…yeah, I guess so, but still—_

"Nah, no buts." You grin at the space you've been imagining as him—you'd even set up a plant there, right next to you on the couch—and shake your head. "You tried. That's all I'm ever gonna ask, chief, I promise, I just—I'm just real happy to have you back."

_You know I'm not actually a ghostly spirit hoverin' over there, right?_

"Yeah, well, maybe it's just to make _me_ feel better. Ever consider that one, smartass?" Based on his laughter, he hasn't, but you've got a pretty good feeling that maybe he doesn't mind.

 

* * *

 

When your phone goes off, you immediately shift to show it to the plant next to you, and Eridan makes a rude noise that's somehow outside your head and inside it all at once. Now that you've realized what you need to pay attention to, it's a hell of a lot easier to spot it (and get annoyed by it).

You make an indignant noise back at him, something like a huff crossed with a snort. "What, I'm tryin' to be thoughtful."

_Cro, fuck's sake, I can see any- an' everythin' you see. Shiftin' the phone over there to show the bamboo ain't gonna do jack shit for either a us. Why the fuck did you even grab a bamboo anyway?_

"I dunno," you say, unlocking your phone again. It fell asleep while the bamboo—Takeshi—had been looking at it. "You just sorta feel like a tropical evergreen kinda guy to me, I guess." Beat. “And you know Mom liked ‘em.”

Eridan makes a noise that sounds like a sigh and a strangled sort of affection, and you grin a little to yourself.

_Huh. Okay, so did you give them permission to come over already?_

"Wait, what?"

But there it is in iMessage grey: Sollux and Feferi are coming over, and don't worry about snacks, because they're bringing those, and don't worry about drinks, because they will _all_ be nonalcoholic.

You're not sure what to say. You're not sure what they expect you to say.

Mutely, you hold the phone up to where you imagine Eridan would be—then your body yanks it back down, and you wonder if you're dissociating when your fingers tap over the keyboard.

 

[do you twwo evven havve the code to get in]

[lmao remember who you're talkiing two here, tiiny ampora.]

[“tiiny ampora” are you serious]

[kid id be older than you if i hadnt died keep that shit in your shirt pocket]

[)(oly S)(IT your expressions are so cute!!]

[im fuckin blockin both a you dont bother comin ovver cro doesnt wwant you in his covven anymore]

[W)(AL-----E TOO BAD! It's MY coven, seaing as I started it!!]

[oh my god wwere those fish puns]

 

 _I can't do this anymore,_ he says, and suddenly your hands and arms are your own again. _You gotta take over Cro, I can't fuckin' do this._

"Is it because you're so into her you're starting to think the fish puns are cute?"

Slowly, all the fingers on your empty left hand curl down, leaving one central figure—or finger, as the case may be—standing upright.

You burst out laughing so hard that it takes you a good five minutes to calm down enough to reply.

 

[look, i didnt say vwe could meet here.]

[But you said you )(ad plants.]

[vwhat does that havwe to do vwith anything?]

[plant2 would be a good way two te2t our mutual compatiibiiliitiie2.]

[are you shitting me?? im not letting you touch my babies.]

[holy 2hiit ii2 ampora a weiird plant guy?? ii had no iidea ampora wa2 a weiird plant guy. thii2 ii2 the greate2t giift ii have ever receiived, brb, ii'm gonna go put thii2 on my blog.]

[i fuckin hate you captor.]

[wa2 that you or wa2 that your brother?]

[yes]

[If you t)(ree are done flirting, we'll be over around six, okay?]

[do i actually havwe any choice in the matter?]

[NOP---------E!]

 

You elect to believe her on that one, ignore Danny's gripes, and set to tidying up the place enough that it won't offend.

 

* * *

 

Of course, the downside to having an actual coven is that you have to come to some kind of accord with your familiar about the sudden influx of new people.

 

* * *

 

He's as much of a testy little shit as Danny ever was, and sometimes you wonder if he's like that because he knows you need it in your life.

 _Probably is._ Eridan himself has decided to comment on your deeply private inner musings, and ignores you when you hiss at him to shut up. _If you're goin' to be emotional about me, I'm allowed to say shit back. I've gone ages without bein' able to tell you that you were bein' an intolerable pain in the ass, don't you dare ruin it for me now._

You flip the air off as you head into the balcony greenhouse, and ignore the fact that you hold it a full three seconds longer than you'd intended to. "Uh—Ginny? Hey, c'mon out, dude—"

_I still can't believe you named your familiar after a goddamn beer._

"It was—"

_I know exactly what it was for, Cro Ampora, an' shame on you for saddlin' that poor creature with such a name._

This time, the guilty, _I’ve failed_ feeling does not manifest: you have no problems flipping him off whatsoever.

Of course, it doesn't have much of an effect considering that you can't see his reaction, and considering that once you realize _that_ , you can actually feel Danny's amusement. The jackass.

The rustle in the corner of the greenhouse even manages to sound amused as well, but you'll tolerate shit from your _theoretically_ beloved familiar that you won't put up with from a little brother. "Come on out, Ginny, I want to talk shit through, and I want to do it now."

Ginny chirps, a noise that's only supposed to be common in stoat kits—familiars have never really followed the most linear path of communication, and Ginny is not an exception to that rule—and pops out of his burrow. {Hey Eridan.}

_Hey Gin._

Your jaw drops. "Wait—wait, are you telling me you _knew_ he was there, and you never fucking told me, you absolute piece a shit, you fucking, absolutely insane rodent, what the hell—"

{Hey so are you less melodramatic than he is because if so swapsies.}

_Gin was vaguely aware of my presence, but he wasn't aware of exactly what or who I was, until you knew._

"...oh." You're feeling a little guilty, now, but Ginny can't help but pipe up again.

{He smelled and felt vaguely like you or what I knew of your brother but I didn't _know_ if I was sure soooo I didn't say anything.} Your familiar leaps out of his burrow and scampers across the floor. You kneel down to catch him automatically when he runs at you, lifting him up carefully for Eridan to greet. Fuck. Right. Eridan can see whatever you can see.

 _Hey, Gin,_ he says, like he can feel your inner turmoil and self-recriminations. Actually, he probably can. Goddammit, you're really gonna have to get better at keeping a handle on those. _It's nice to meet you, like, properly an' shit._

You're not sure how to convey it, but you're hoping deep down (where you hope neither Eridan nor Ginny can feel it), that your familiar is nice to your kid brother.

{...nice to meet you too kid.}

 

You just barely don't breathe a sigh of relief, and settle Ginny on your shoulders where he can see everyone. "Okay, so. I met a girl—"

{Score.}

_Not like that._

{Damn.}

_Yet._

{Nice.}

"Oh my god you're the fuckin' worst. Before either one of you asks all innocent-like 'but Cro who'd you mean?' it's both of you, you're both the worst." You take a deep, steadying breath, trying to remind yourself that _you_ are the mature one here, with everything that entails, up to and including _not sinking to their level_. "I met a girl and a guy, and I think they might be my coven. The girl sure seems to think so, at least, and I mean, so does the guy? Feferi Peixes and Sollux Captor. They're the ones who spotted Danny and told me that he was still, uh. Around."

{Okay so where do I come into this?} Ginny's whiskers twitch, tickling the side of your neck, and you bite down on laughter that threatens to ease your anxieties. You need to stay focused on your goals.

"I'd like them to meet you, an' I'd like you to...I don't know, get a read on them? I want to sort out who they are and what they're like, and you're a damn fine judge of character, Ginny." Flattery gets you everywhere with your familiar, and you can feel his chest puff up with pride. "So I'm gonna need you to behave, and play nice, and—you know, come out and get to know them. At least say hi for a bit, then you can scamper off to wherever you like. I won't ask you to hang around for the whole time, but—"

{It's cool. I can hang out while you get all your magical shit sorted out I don't mind.}

You'd be lying if you said that you weren't instantly suspicious. You can't actually remember the last time your familiar's been this accommodating, and you're sort of suspecting some kind of trap, but—

_You really mean it? Because they said they might have some ideas on me, an' how to help..._

Oh, _fuck_. Your little brother is absolutely excellent at what he does, and you give him mental props for playing the sincerely earnest and hopeful card: it's Ginny's one major weakness.

 _Thank you,_ Eridan says, and you know without asking that you're the only one who could hear him say it.

{... _fine_ .} Ginny sounds a bit indignant, but you're pleased as fucking punch—if your familiar's indignant or grumpy, it means you've probably boxed him into being sincere, polite—maybe even kind of nice, but that _could_ be a bit of a stretch. You won't complain, so long as you've gotten the first two.

"Thanks, Ginny," you tell him, skritching behind his ears. "It means a lot to the both a us."

{Yeah yeah.} He flicks your nose with his little tail, and you can't help but grin.

 

* * *

 

And that's the end of most all of your problems besides the last of the cleaning for your apartment, and making sure you've got something to add to the food, just in case, until they arrive.

You weren't sure what you were expecting. Captor seems like the type to be at least a little bit late, and Peixes seems like the sort to be way too fucking early, but they show up together at six on the dot, food in hand. When you pull the door open, Feferi's carrying way more than anyone that small should be able to handle with so much ease, and Captor's got a dinky little bag and a six pack of something fruity and fizzy. No alcohol, as promised, and you're torn between happy and relieved about that. When you glance at the six pack, then give Captor a look, he shrugs and jerks his chin at Feferi, who’s already maneuvered her way past you and headed for your kitchen. "She insisted, and honestly? She could kick my ass."

Yeah, you're...not gonna doubt that. Captor looks like a goddamn toothpick, and Feferi seems like she could bench press you if she put her mind to it. "C'mon in then, I guess?"

His eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk spreads over his face, slow and easy as melted chocolate. "You guess? Wow, I feel so welcomed—hey, FF, he _guesses_ we can come in!"

From the kitchen comes a burst of bubbling laughter. "I'm already in and laying food out, Sollux, stop your carping and hurry it up if you want anything to eat!" The two of them are going to kill you dead, and they're not even bothering to _try_.

You shoo Sollux inside, hoping he can't see the blush on your face and ignoring Eridan's sarcastic _nice, Cro_ in favor of heading to the kitchen yourself. "I left some shit out too—"

"Noted and incorporated, Ampora," she says, waving a hand imperiously. "Now go sit down, relax, and let us invade your space."

You'd really like to tell her that none of those things are your style—the sitting, maybe, but letting people in your space and relaxing are a hard no—but that would involve naysaying Feferi Peixes, the only girl you know who’d wear a crown better than a queen, and over the so-far short duration of your acquaintanceship with her, you're already learning this is not the sort of thing to do.

Instead, you take a seat on the couch and contemplate the turns your life has taken.

 

Turn One: You are not a wealthy heir to a wealthy family.

Turn Two: "Wealth", in this case, applies to contingencies, options, and money.

Turn Three: You are far too wealthy in magic that does not belong to the Ampora name.

Turn Four: If the same had not been true of Feferi Peixes and Sollux Captor, if the same of them had not been true of you you might have all met under very different circumstances, and found each other much as you're finding each other now.

 

 _You might not have needed them if things hadn't turned,_ Eridan says in your head, and you close your eyes in silent acknowledgement of this truth: the three of you, together, fit each other in the ways that only broken things seem to. It's obvious—unfortunately so—that this is not the norm. A status quo might well have created an entirely different coven, and the sheer _wrongness_ of that theoretical loss hurts all the way down to your soul. You are dangerously attached.

 _Stop that,_ Eridan says, and you can (if you half-close your eyes and remember and think and dream and wish all at once) see him clenching his hands into fists, see the man he's become behind your back (behind your mind?) staring you down, something in the set of his jaw that reminds you a little too much of your family. _If you hadn't had them, you would've had another coven, and you never would've known anythin' different. The misery hurts me too, okay? Especially when you forget that it ain't—that it's not real, an' you make it harder for me to remember._

A sliver of guilt shoves itself under your skin like a splinter, and you think an apology at him that he somehow accepts. Every time you're reminded, or realize, the little ways in which he'd been fighting to preserve his own identity inside of yours, you want to fall on your knees and swear that you'll be a better brother.

_I'm not acceptin' melodramatics as a form a currency at this time, please try again later._

You snort, and Captor looks up from whatever piece of tech he's fiddling with, to give you that raised eyebrow that tends to mean—you're guessing—questions, with a slight hint of judgment. "I think you'd appreciate my brother's sense of humor, Captor. A man after your own heart."

Oddly enough, this makes the half-dreamt image of Eridan you have (it’s easier to hold his form in your mind if you think about him that way) flush red. Sollux does the same, only a little more pink than red. You've always assumed he had a thing for guys like Danny, maybe for guys like you, and a much easier time at seeing ghosts. "Good to know, uh—is there anything else I should, you know, know, about your brother. Given that you're the best medium for communicating with him and all."

 

Whether or not that's a pun, you groan, and when you hear a more feminine one from the kitchen (your mind does not need to go where it does at that sound, thank you very much), you decide that it probably was. "Captor, I might have to chuck you out on the balcony if you keep it up."

_You fuckin' hypocrite, tell them what you did._

"I will _not_ ," you say, but Ginny comes skittering out from under the sofa anyway, and you're faced with wondering how much more he likes your brother than you. "Traitor."

"I'm gonna assume you're talking to your brother—oh hello there." Sollux immediately crouches down to greet Ginny, which raises him a good deal higher in your estimation, Ginny's, and probably also Eridan's. "What's your name, then?"

{Gin. You can also call me Ginny if you're an idiot like Cronus is.}

You can feel your face redden as your stupid familiar talks, and you're left to contemplate stuffing the damn tube rat into a sock and letting him chew his way out for an hour or two. "Aren't you supposed to be my familiar?"

{Doesn't mean I'm on your side.}

Feferi is wiping her hands off on her jeans as she looks the scene over, and there's a curious look to her, one that you're going to want to name, and sketch, and maybe kiss later on. Someday. Maybe. "Is that short for something?"

{Sure. It's—}

 

It's a split second thing, but you decide to jump upon your own sword before anyone else can shove you: "His name is Guinness Stoat."


	5. all the things we should have known

Your curse in life is to be surrounded by assholes, and this has never been truer than when your familiar and your brother gang up on you to make you suffer.

Feferi is nearly in tears from laughing, and Sollux is insulting you for a hypocrite, and you are _seriously_ regretting ever finding that once-cute little fucker in the garden and bringing him home. A stoat, of all things—a weasel, if you were being honest, and you actually weren't completely sure what the difference _was_ , but according to Ginny it was all about location.

"—HONESTLY it was bad enough when I thought you'd named your familiar after a much-beloved character from Harry Potter, the books, not the movies, the movies were crap and did the Weasleys dirty, but a pun, when you impinged upon my honor—"

Captor's monologue drifts in and out of your hearing, which is primarily occupied with the sound of Feferi's laughter and the way it goes to your jeans. Guinness is giving you the most mocking look in his arsenal, and to your immense regret, it's working.

"Look," you finally say, cutting the bastard off mid-sentence. "Considering that ‘Guinness’ is literally the only name possible for a stoat, it’s _obviously_ my having a stoat that you’re making fun of, so fuck you, at least he's not a guinea pig.” Beat. “Who I would’ve named Stout."

Silence, total silence. You brace for the mockery to descend—

“That’s even _worse_ ,” Sollux says, in a heartfelt voice, and you snort, which gives Feferi the giggles, and makes Eridan laugh. Even Ginny looks amused, and some of that awful, awful tension in your shoulders finally starts to relax.

"You're not wrong, though," you say to Sollux, sprawling back against the couch like you hadn't even been worried, "Ginny's the best fuckin' character in the books."

You do not say that you _get_ Harry just a little too much to actually like him. That would be a little too close to admitting that you do not actually like yourself.

 

Neither of them say anything, and you choose to believe they've decided on mercy instead of calling you on your massive amounts of bullshit. It's not a bad thing to think of your coven-to-be, after all.

 

* * *

 

By silent agreement, the three of you find yourselves sitting around Eridan's bamboo plant. Food was considered briefly by each of you, then disregarded—if you were hungry, it might impact your focus, but as it is, none of you want to end up nauseous. Eridan himself, when you turn your head away to glance at other plants, is sitting in the center, the bamboo held in his lap.

By silent agreement, the three of you do not comment on the bamboo plant hovering about half a foot off the ground.

Captor is the first to break the silence, to no one's surprise. "So what do we want to do here, then?"

"Well, uh," you start, then glance over at Feferi. Back at Sollux. To the center again, where Eridan isn't quite visible to the naked eye. "I guess—I mean, I'd—I'd kinda like a repeat of what we did back in the restaurant, but with everyone aware of what's goin' on, an' on board to actually...make it work, this time."

You pause, to give them a chance to nod, and also for dramatic effect, because you are a bit of an asshole. "I'd also like not to faint, but I understand if that's not an option on the table."

It wins you some laughter from the coven, and more importantly, from your baby brother. Ginny even sticks his nose in your ear, a surer sign of approval than any other he ever gives. "Well I'm not planning on taking off my shirt any time soon, so I think we can safely assume that you will _not_ be so dazzled as to faint," Captor says, and you can't help but smirk at him.

The flush that creeps up his ears makes looking like a bit of a tool very, _very_ worth it.

"Right then!" Feferi quickly swoops in to spare him the fluster and humiliation, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her determination to keep everyone happy. "Shall we?"

You don't know what to do, and from the pitying looks they give you, you're the only one left out of the intimate circle of knowledge. But you do not do well with being given quarter; you do not take most sympathy well. Instead of backing up, your chin raises higher, and your hands shoot out in what's almost more a demand than an offering.

To their credit, they seem to be ready for this. It gives you hope for how well they'll deal with your shitty behavior and bad moods.

 

Feferi's hand lands in yours, soft as a butterfly, gentle as a kiss, twice as much of a shock to the system as anything you've ever done in your life. Sollux, by contrast, snatches yours up, gripping it with a ferocity that sends lightning arcing up your veins. They are counter and counterparts, changing colors that shouldn’t-couldn’t match, and you find yourself, somehow, balancing them. It's inexplicable, it's impossible, and yet, it's what you are and what you're doing.

You don't think you've ever been a balancing force for anyone in your goddamn life.

 

On your left, Feferi's murmuring to herself in something that ripples like water, whatever words she uses to bring her magic under a modicum of control; on your right, you're pretty fucking sure that Sollux is setting out his power in lines of computer code. You yourself—okay, well. You're a bit pretentious, you'll be honest about that much, but it's something that you know will work for you.

_Who would be so arrogant as to assume we needed to build doors to the ocean? Who would be so egotistical as to believe that the ocean would even come through a gate?_

It's a lyrical sort of thing, the pre-songs you spend your spare time building up into something more, turning lengthy lines of poetry into something that's got enough of a heartbeat to maybe have a soul, and you're so godsdamn good at this that you can do it and observe your new covenmates at the same time.

They've decided on a flowing chain. Feferi's hand is in yours, your hand is in Sollux's, and Sollux's hand is in Feferi's. Turn it around, and Sollux is holding your hand, while you hold Feferi's and Feferi holds Sollux's. You've never tried this before, and you know that they know, and you know that they know you're trying not to resent them for knowing far more than you do.

You don't get a chance to dwell on how you suddenly have all of this information: Sollux thinks a sending in ruby-gold-sapphire-blue, and it flits across the center of your mind. Gone as fast as it came, but somehow it's enough to leave an impression. _You can send to us deliberately, but you project like we're in a second grade classroom, dude._

Your cheeks go red, and you continue on, focusing entirely on your own words. It's a better option than having these two psychoanalyze you any further.

_By what standard do they think the water works? By what rules do they believe a sea is made? If you have the temerity to create yourself an architect for the tide, you invite the wave to your home._

Their flickers pass quicker (that same glimmer and gold for Sollux, deep roots of pink sunk into green for Feferi), now, interest in how you work, in the way you approach your magic. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have the same interest in theirs, but you're too _embarrassed_ to do anything but focus right about now. When the flickers shift to amusement, you duck your head, and stare at the ground—

—and then a new flicker, one that doesn't feel-sound-resonate like either of them, pulls your eyes forward again, your chin right up. The vibrant fuchsia pink, rooted in deepest forest green, the gold struck through with cracks of a paler sort, limned in ruby and sapphire, fade into the background, becoming faint pink and faded green, muddy yellows and dull primaries.

In the center of the circle is your little brother, hale and whole, holding the bamboo plant you'd kept as a stand-in for him.

 

* * *

 

Your motion—a lunge, straight at him—is only checked by the death grip Sollux and Feferi keep on your hands. "Don't break the circle," Captor warns, and you manage to settle back, tension bristling along your shoulders, all down your spine. "Hey, c'mon dude. We'll, uh—"

"We can find other ways to do this," Feferi says, her voice firm. "So that the two of you can spend some time together."

"I think you're all forgettin' the relevant fact here—that is to say, _I'm still allowed to move_."

Eridan. That's Eridan. That's Eridan's voice, grown up and gone through puberty, and those are Eridan's eyes and that is Eridan's stupid hair, ruffled up with that cocoa colored streak in amongst the dark, dark brown—and his eyes, when they turn on you, are the exact same hue as yours. "You fuckin' disaster, you're cryin'."

 _Oh,_ you think. _Explains why he's all blurry an' shit._ Immediately, his expression changes.

 

This time, Eridan's the one who lunges at you, and he wraps his arms around you, and he squeezes so fucking hard that it's easy to forget how long he’s been gone.


	6. we'll look back and we'll remember

Your grip on Feferi's hand tightens, and you can feel the squeeze travel through all three of you, wrapping back around to Sollux—who you hadn't pegged for having such a good grip—and it's _almost_ enough to make up for the fact that you yourself can't hug Danny without breaking the circle. Instead, you press your chin into his shoulder, your eyes slipping shut for a second—part of you wants to drink the sight of him in, part of you knows exactly what he looks like, every detail, and the most rational part of you reasons that you're not gonna get to see more than the back of his stupid violet hoodie if he keeps clinging to you like a little bitch.

"God," you say, and hope no one noticed how bad your voice cracked over a single damn syllable. "Dan, hey, fuck—fuck, you're gonna soak my shirt, you dick, pull up an' lemme see your face, okay?"

"No," he says, and he grips at your shirt. Eridan cries quiet, always has, but you can feel the warm of it through the thin fabric of your Target 4-pack tee. You're more of a noisy crier yourself, but then again, you'd never been as scared of getting caught as he was. You're pretty sure you could still take a hit better than he could anyway. "Fuck you, shut up, I _died_."

Cold, painful reality, settles back in, and only now does he pull back, looking at you all solemn. It's like he's gotta tell you the hamster's died, or some shit, and he's only just worked out the best way to do it, and—

"Dude. Chill."

You glance at Feferi, then at Sollux. "It's freaky when you say shit in unison like that."

"It's a PAIN IN THE ASS when you project your sad self-doubt and emotional self-harm all over our workings!" Feferi sticks her tongue out at you, and you and Eridan snort, also in unison. Goddammit. "See, now that—that is _cute_ , and therefore acceptable!"

 

Instead of dignifying that with any kind of acknowledgement or response, you raise an eyebrow up at Eridan. "Do you know what she means by emotional self-harm?"

"Yup. You make yourself feel like shit via blamin' yourself for what happened to me. It's like pokin' a sore tooth or somethin' an' makin' it worse instead a’ gettin' that shit _fixed_." You feel utterly betrayed, but Eridan's just giving you that look. It says _you're bein' an idiot an' we both know it, so you might as well save me the effort a’ sayin' it an' admit it yourself._ Time has done it favors: your memories of that look are on a face still rounded out by baby fat, impossible to take seriously. On these streamlined angles, the hollows and high cheekbones lend him and his expression a degree of dignity and command you'd never seen before. "I've told you a thousand times, Cro. That shit wasn't your fault."

"And that's great and all, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that and also hearing it straight from you and shit, but—" You're sitting there, holding hands with the rest of your little coven, your brother so desperately close, so far out of reach, and you're struggling for words. It's an old-new feeling, one you're used to dodging in your adult life so often that you almost never feel it, one you remember hating from your childhood. You finish on the lamest possible note: "But you don't know that."

Eridan raises an eyebrow. This is yet another _look_ , and it's even more judgmental than the last. "Are you sure about that?"

 

You _are_ sure about that, is the thing. You'd happily claim to be sure that Dan wouldn't, couldn't, know that you weren't at fault for absolutely _everything_ , that he's never said anything provable to the contrary, but in his defense, it's not like the two of you have spoken all that much. "Okay then," you say, bracing yourself up with the twin squeezes from your covenmates' hands, "what do you know?"

Suddenly sober, Eridan retreats to the center of the circle. He takes the time to right the fallen bamboo plant, stroking over the edges with trembling fingertips that you ache to see. "I can't—I don't want to cover everythin' on this go-round. It's a lot, an' it's...it's hard to talk about sometimes, aye? I'll do the best I can, but...we're goin' to have to do this more than once if you guys want me to give you the full story."

He looks scared, and it takes another squeeze—matching iron grips—and the quiet steel in Feferi’s voice to keep you from going to him. "We can make that happen, Eridan, and we'll plan in advance for setting this up without the contact; give you more room to...roam, I guess?"

"Thank you," he says and there's gratitude (and something else) shining out of those eyes. Fuck, you wanna hug him so damn bad. "So, uh—"

Sollux, of course, is the one to interrupt. "Not to be more of a rude dick than usual, but why can't you talk about it all at once?"

A deep breath—holy fuck, he can _breathe_ , you could watch him breathe all day—and Eridan curls his hands around the bamboo’s pot. "When you die—or, I guess, when I died? It's not like I interviewed any ghosts about _their_ experiences with the afterlife—you get a snapshot. I mean, I got a snapshot. Of, uh—the circumstances around my death, I guess. Everythin' happenin', a chunk a the time leadin' up to it...I've never had a photographic memory or anythin', you can ask Cro, but this shit's...it's sketched in, maybe even stained. Indelible ink, pen sharp enough to make grooves on the parchment paper, the whole deal." The unsettlingly flat expression on his face gets to you, but not as much as the single-shoulder loose shrug that follows it. No big deal, just your average twenty-something chatting about how the moment of his own death is written into his mind in permanent ink. If you weren't so determined to make this _not about you,_ you'd probably throw up. "It can be a lot to bear, but it's got a lot a’ useful information buried between the moments a’ it, so...I can look it over, sure, but that doesn't take away from the emotional pain a’ it all, an', well, it's not like there's therapy for a ghost, y'know?"

This time they don't stop you in time and you get one whole second of hugging your brother before he goes intangible again and you're left with nothing but a broken pot, a toppled bamboo plant, and a slightly damper shirt.

 

* * *

 

No reprimands come your way, and you're not sure if that helps or makes you feel worse. You're not really sure you want to know, not if it means you're going to be stuck in the middle of their pity. You've never been good with pity: either you scorn it or feed off of it, and you're scared of how they'd take an asshole like you pulling some fuckshit like that. This is all too new to risk.

No reprimands come. Instead, Feferi helps sweep up the fallen bamboo and settle it into a new pot, as Sollux steadies your hands before you even notice they're shaking. The two of them move slowly, quietly, tidying sections of your apartment and guiding you down to the couch, wrapping you up in blankets and soft things and never leaving you unattended. The food is moved from the kitchen to your coffee table, and finally, finally, they tuck in on either side of you, quiet and still, and you finally find your breaking point in that same silence. You can't stand the quiet.

 

"Can you see him?" Your voice is heavy with emotion, your throat rougher from tears, but you're managing, you're holding together.

Feferi nods. "He's leaning against your legs," she tells you, and you nearly choke on another sob. It's so _Dan_ , it's— so familiar and so alien all at once, it's been years since he's done this (or since you'd known he was doing this), but it feels like it never stopped.

"Yeah," you manage, reaching down to where your hands tell you something is if you keep your eyes half-closed. "He always used to like doing that. Have you always been able to see him? Why didn’t you say?”

“Uhm,” she says, glancing at Sollux. “Yes. I’m just not, you know, _Sollux_ about it.”

Sollux huffs indignantly, but he still leans into your side and Feferi tucks herself up against the other one as you keep your vision hazy enough to semi-see your baby brother, just enough to mess with his hair.

_You're still a fuckin' disaster, you know that? Stop messin' it up, Fef can see an' it took me ages to get it right._

You wheeze out another laugh, and when Sollux hands the newly repotted bamboo down to Danny so that it looks like it's floating a bit off the ground again, you even manage a smile. "Alright," Captor says, smirking in a way that almost makes you feel like you hadn't been phenomenally emotional and stupid, "who's picking what we watch?"

 

* * *

 

Given that you have to present a case for both Eridan’s viewing preferences _and_ your own, you're at something of a disadvantage. Regardless, Feferi wins the day, and you put up a half-hearted complaint as she plucks the remote from your hands to find _The Great British Bake-Off_. You're starting to wonder if the selection of pastries at Bloominous are her doing, and when you glance at the table, about fifteen minutes in, you note the wide spread of baked goods she's laid out here.

"Hey, uh—"

It's as if Sollux anticipated your question, because he grins at you and snags the pear-and-cheese danish you'd been eyeing. "Yep. She's fucking amazing at baking, you should see her tortes."

"I look forward to it," you say, just a touch of flirt in your voice, and you have to make a mental note that Feferi seems to appreciate the attention just as much as Sollux does, given the slight color in her cheeks and the slight smile on her face. "Guess I'm going to have to get back into working out if I don't want to gain another hundred pounds."

" _God_ , don't remind me about that exercise crap." Sollux is incredible at whining, and he sprawls out across the ground atop several pillows, leaning into Eridan like he doesn't even have a doubt about where he is. "I have to do the treadmill thing and _everything_."

"The treadmill thing. Holy fuck, Captor, how are you even alive?" It's a legitimate question; you're reasonably sure that Sollux Captor has already put away at least half his weight in pastry.

Feferi giggles, draping her tanned legs— _don't stare, don't stare_ —across Sollux's knees. "I drag him to the gym whenever I go. If you want to come along, we can totally switch our membership to a coven one for a discount."

You used to be something of a solitary guy but you can't deny the fact that the offer of company sounds really damn nice. "Sure," you say, resolving to at least give it a try. "We can start up a group text and everything, how's that sound?"

_Good, you need to get out more often._

"Can someone punch my brother for me? I'd do it myself, but that would be rude," you say, louder than strictly necessary, and you get to “hear” Eridan yelp as Feferi flips over onto her stomach and goes in for what you tell her are his weak spots: his very ticklish sides. “And tell me later how you’re doing that, holy _shit_.”

 

It's—gods, it's so fuckin' nice, it's everything you pictured a family—a home—being like.

 

* * *

 

When enough time has passed that the three of you feel ready to try bringing Dan back again, the sun is threatening to dip below the horizon. Usually you'd be happy to offer up your apartment, but this connection is still so new—even when you do offer, they both admit that they're a little wiped, that they have plans for the next day, work, school, that sort of thing—and you don't feel like you can push without putting too much pressure on them. They're the ones doing you a favor, after all. Wouldn't be fair to them to keep on asking for more.

So instead you get Feferi’s explanation (helping you recognize him strengthened his tether to your life, making Eridan visible increases his connection to the world, and they were both already able to interact with him a bit more, etcetera etcetera), then get them set with a plant each: your oldest, already-rooted clippings from Sheridan (a spider plant that you've had for years) and send them on their way. It's hard to explain it, but maybe it's not. You like sending your plants off on their own little journeys, out into the wide, wide world—plus, they're your coven. You want them to have something of yourself.

 

* * *

 

It's only after they're long gone that you realize with something akin to a start that you'd sort of missed having Feferi and Sollux around, even though the spaces between their visits were much shorter gaps than you’re used to between visits from friends. You feel an unaccountable flicker of guilt for being so distracted and caught up in your own shit that you hadn’t noticed sooner, and it's echoed by a flash of shame that is/isn't your own. Eridan.

 _I don’t—I mean, it wasn’t that long, was it? I don’t get why I’m—why_ we’re _feeling like this._

"And it sucks that we do," you mumble, and slump down onto the couch, your head thumping against the back of it.

_Kinda, yeah._

"We'll work on it," you say, falling back into your old habits (you’d ask how long it’s been, but you know too damn well) of wanting to offer solutions and comfort as natural as breathing. Fuck. Gods. Okay. You _can_ do this.

 

 _An' here you thought you'd forgotten how to be a big brother._ This had been one of those times, but you’re back on track now—you don't even need to see his expression to feel him grinning.


	7. all the ways we could have grown

The four of you fall into an easy routine. It's hard to say exactly how or when it starts, but starting points have always been a little less important for you than several other things. You care more about how the song plays, how it ends, than a beginning that everyone's going to forget before you even reach a midpoint. Beginnings are messy, confusingly tumultuous things—

Beginnings are a little too much like you for comfort.

The routine turns into a pattern. Feferi at your place, talking to your plants in a quiet voice, Ginny settled over a shoulder. Sollux crashing on your couch, surrounded by papers and textbooks, all the trappings of a college degree. You visit their apartments, and quietly start looking at houses, at four bedroom places. It's the first time you've ever thought you _might_ want roommates.

And Eridan—Eridan phases in and out of view on the regular, now, all the spellwork and patching that the three—four—of you do, whenever your coven meets, giving him a transient sort of shape and form that he doesn't always remember to hold onto. It's hit a point that you're pretty happy with: some days, you'll wake up to him stealing your cereal and milk, and others, he's more of a warm presence and a floating bamboo plant.

 

* * *

 

Of course, anything this good would have to break. You don't get stability, so you can't have stability.

It's something you should've known, but gods if you didn't try to forget.

 

* * *

 

The first sign that anything might not be quite right comes from Feferi.

 

She's draped over your lap and in Sollux's, her back to Eridan. Your baby brother's perched on the arm of the sofa, his feet on the cushion and his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he does Feferi's plait up in something infinitely more complicated. Sollux had decided to "school you" in some video game, and you two were playing (Feferi was his handicap, theoretically) as Feferi pouted—Eridan had insisted she had to _wait_ until he was done.

"Oh, right," she says, pausing in the middle of a long, _long_ soliloquy about how she hadn't _actually_ been moving all that much, and this was _really_ unfair, "I forgot to tell you guys, I saw this plant in the greenhouse today."

If there's anything you envy about their school lives, it's Feferi's easy access to the local university's greenhouses. She'd put in for coven passes for you and Sollux, but given that she wasn't quite a grad student yet, it was proving a little harder for her to get them. "Oh, yeah? So seein' plants in the greenhouses is a bit unusual for you then, aye?"

Feferi groans, shoving your head, and Sollux snickers. "Not like that, jackass. This one was...I don't actually know how to describe it, but it was definitely different. I mean, it wasn't even in a pot!"

That pauses you in your tracks. It's not like every greenhouse on the campus is imbued with magic, but you've read enough about them and visited the open ones to know that there are _several_ passive spells in effect, to keep tabs on what everything's up to. Even the plants that react poorly to magic have regulatory spells wrapped around the outsides of their greenhouses. For Feferi to have seen a plant, not in a pot, that stuck out...

It was weird, at the very least. You don't actually know how to start asking questions without making her worry.

"What did it look like?" Sollux comes to your rescue, and when the grateful look you give him is met with something carefully neutral, fear prickles up your spine.

Feferi leans back against Eridan, who barely ties off his work in time and wraps his arms around her, resting his chin atop her barely tamed curls. "Well..."

Eridan's picked up quite a bit of your experience with plants, and more than that, he's been able to stock his memory from your own subconscious. So as Feferi begins to describe a particular lily, you watch his face, knowing he'll have a better grasp on what's going on than anyone else in the room.

"It was gorgeous, actually, this deep violet, almost black? Six petals, definitely a fritillary, and the flower's head was nodding—uh, Sollux, that'd be hanging down—"

"How did it smell?" Your brother's face is a study in panic, and you interrupt Feferi before you even think it through, wanting, _needing_ to know that the worst of your fears are unfounded. "Uh, not that I'm assumin' you shoved your face into an unfamiliar plant an' just sniffed it or anythin'—"

"Oh, no worries. I got close enough when I was doing a sketch of it for the report—it smelled _awful_ , actually—ow, _hey—_ "

Fear, cold and thick, settles into you. From the death grip Eridan's got on Feferi, you know he's feeling it too. "Dan, ease up." He manages to, barely, and you can see some of your worry transferred into Feferi's eyes. "Feferi, have you seen these flowers anywhere else?"

"No?" She glances up at Eridan, then back at you, and up to Sollux again, who shakes his head. "Guys, I'm serious, if you're gonna keep up the freaky crap, I want an explanation _now_."

"So, uh," Eridan says, sliding back down onto the couch, his arms still tight around Feferi, knees pressed up against Captor's thighs now. "You saw a kuroyuri."

"Sounds Japanese." Captor's hands are in motion. The second tension had hit the air, you'd shoved his backpack over towards him with a foot, and he'd gone digging for something to fidget with—origami paper, this time, and you focus on the careful folds, neat creases, the flowers taking shape under his hand.

"Sure, yeah, it's...it's got common names too, though," you say, and gesture a bit at the perfect lily he's made. "Kamchatka fritillary or Kamchatka lily, and some people call it a rice lily or a northern rice-root. Most of the time it gets called shit like skunk lily, dirty diaper, and outhouse lily, though, on account a it smellin' absolutely _awful._  There are a couple a other names, but they're not unique to it, so—"

"Still missing the significance here, guys." Feferi cuts over you like she's done it all her life, and you bite down on your lip, trying to think of the most effective way to phrase this without sounding like a lunatic.

Eridan comes to your rescue once more: "It's got a specific meanin' in hanakotoba. We told you about our mom, yeah?"

"Right."

Your turn to step up. "The Japanese flower language is a little...different, from the Victorian one. Different meanin' comes into play for different shit, flower giftin' can be fraught with tension, all a that. Certain flowers can have more than one meanin' as well, which I know you're both familiar with."

"Sure," Sollux says, reaching out to settle his next creation, a lotus blossom, in Feferi's hand. "I made a spreadsheet for them and everything."

You look at Eridan. "Uh. We didn't fill you in on the hanakotoba meanings, not yet, because, well—"

"—it's a little personal." Eridan keeps looking at you, as he finishes the thought off.

"We're a coven," Feferi says, and the determination in her voice has you cringing back a little built, panic and fear overlaid by something a bit more like guilt. "If this is important, you need to tell us, now."

"If you've only seen the one, an' no one else has seen any, then it _shouldn't_ be an issue, but, uh—"

"The kuroyuri flower stands for either love or a curse," Eridan says. You groan; Eridan's always been a little too focused on maintaining the coven bonds between the three of you, and half the time you regret how much of _you_ he knows. "Generally...it's complicated, aye? But if you're bein' stalked by a kuroyuri—Sol Captor do _not_ laugh, that shit was _not_ a pun—then everythin' is goin' to shit right quick."

This sobers Feferi (and Sollux, thank fuck) up quick, and it takes Eridan's gentle touch on her wrist to keep her from crushing the little flowers that Sollux has kept piling her (and you, and Danny) up with. "Oh. I—okay."

 

You'll give her credit for this, the girl is absolutely excellent at maintaining a calm facade even in the worst possible danger. Sometimes you wonder what's happened to make her like that, and sometimes, you remember that you're not all that different from her. Sometimes.

Sollux's hands slow, for a moment. "So as long as we don't see any more of the weird smelly flowers, we're probably fine?"

"Should be," Eridan promises, stealing the longer-stemmed flowers from Sollux's pile to weave them into Feferi's hair. "I mean, it'd be best if we could actually test that flower Fef found, but if we don't see any more, then usually we can assume we're fine. Uh—I mean, it's also possible that someone _else_ Fef knows has been cursed. They're not...it kinda depends? On what kinda power's bein' put into the curse, an' what type a curse it is."

"Okay, now you need to explain _that_ one," Feferi says, tilting her head up to look at him. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Curses come in different shapes and sizes and types, which you already know. Curses linked to more personal meanin' can be confusin'. The kuroyuri—you're not bein' followed by it because it's an evil plant or bad or anythin'. You're bein' followed by it— _if_ you're bein' followed by it—because the person who called up the curse feels a strong connection to the plant's meanin' as a curse." It's a little gratifying to have such a focused audience, especially as you're the type of guy who speaks with your hands. You like telling stories, embellishing truths into something much larger. In this case, it's almost like you're back home in your old room, Danny tucked up on one side of you as your mom explains the basics of magic to the both of you. "A lot a meanin' is what you make a it."

Sollux runs a hand through his hair, then presses a palm to his face. "So the supposedly cursed flower isn't actually a curse unless someone who's using it decides that it's a curse, am I anywhere near the right track here?"

"You're at the station, even," Eridan says, flashing him a grin. "Uh—well, alright. The main reason we're worryin' is, if the kuroyuri was meant for Fef, then it's someone from the Ampora family castin' curses at her."

Feferi frowns, tipping her head back to look up at him. "Could it be a curse meant for our whole coven? And I just saw it first, or something?"

"Entirely possible," Eridan reassures her. You're not sure why that _is_ reassuring, save for—well, okay. You don't want someone targeting any of your covenmates. If there's a target to be painted anywhere, you'd rather it be squarely on your back, and if "not aimed at Feferi" is the best you can get, you'll take it.

 

And—well, okay. You'd imagine that Eridan feels the same.

 

"Any solutions, then?" Sollux is flicking sparks from fingertip to fingertip, and you and Feferi hurry to move all delicate paper out of his reach. His control's gotten a lot better, but he's still something of a wildcard when his emotions are running high. "Should I invest in a hefty duty bottle of weedkiller, is there someone we call, should we hit up a dryad, what?"

"We keep an eye out for any more of the lilies," you tell him, offering a very sympathetic look, as soon as all things flammable are far outside his wixfire range. "It might not even be someone from our family, I mean, we're...I've mainly heard about Amporas an' suchlike prior to this, but that doesn't mean we're the only ones who have those meanings close to our hearts. It's like the some say blue is for defense, some say protection, others go with healin'—"

"Bullcrap," Eridan interrupts, and you feel more than hear the flicker in your mind that goes along with it. "I've said it before an' I'll say it again, protection an' defense are _basically_ the same thin' an' _why_ you insist on separatin' them out, I've no earthly idea—"

Sollux hops in on the debate only to egg the two of you on, and Feferi laughs, chalking up marks in glowing writing whenever someone makes a particularly good point.

_Help me distract them._

 

* * *

 

When you're walking along the route to work the next morning, you almost don't notice the flowers.

 

But Eridan immediately does.

 

* * *

 

Your conscious decision not to make anything worse, not to worry anyone, ends abruptly when the pictures start coming in. Sollux had apparently, after he'd gotten home, taken it upon himself to look through all the pictures the three-four of you had taken over the past few days. When they're spread out on the table, you start to notice a theme, and you begin to realize that the Kamchatka lily had been around a lot longer than you'd actually been paying attention to it, and your grip on your phone tightens up as you read the last line of Sollux's text out loud. "...and if I hadn't noticed some of these fuckers growing in the sidewalk cracks near my shitty apartment, and even in the dumpster, holy fuck I had no idea things could _live_ there, then I don't think I would've checked, but given the sheer concentration of them I assumed things had been going on for a lot longer than we realized, and, well, you can see what I mean, right?"

And right after that, he asks if you're okay. You don't understand this, you don't understand him, you don't understand people besides Dan caring about you and it still scares you a little and—

 

_I forgot. Is it your turn to panic, or mine?_

"Shut up, jackass," you mumble, but some of the spell is broken and you find yourself stumbling back towards the kitchen, to comfort a hissing Ginny. Apparently, the lily had shown up in a single bag of potting soil, enough to freak out your familiar, and make you very, _very_ proud of your own spellwork. "I don't know what we're gonna do."

There's a long pause, one you recognize from your own behavior (and one that gives you a moment of panic you've felt several times so far—yours or his? his or yours?), and then he says: _We could always talk to Da._

Your mind does not shut down at that suggestion; your stomach does not rebel, but it is a very, _very_ near thing. You swallow hard, instead, you square up your shoulders and close your eyes and try your gods damned best to breathe, because breathing is lower on your list right now and the panic that comes from true fear is much higher.

_Cro. Hey. I'm right here, Cro, swear I am. We don't gotta do it, you know that. We can sort shit out on our own, or wait for this jackass to confront us._

"I'm," you start, and wince at the dry rasp of your mouth. Swallowing helps, your hands grabbing a glass and filling it without any input from your brain helps further. You drain the whole thing in one gulp, and try again. "I'm just wondering why the hit ain't landed yet."

Another pause, as Eridan mulls this over (you don't regret leaving the majority of the thinking to him, he's got the patience for it), and you have another glass, much slower this time. _Might not be that kinda curse. Might be aimin' at gettin' our attention afore anythin' truly awful happens._

"A creeping curse? Like, where shit don't hurt 'til you know it's going to or ought to?"

 _Yeah. But that's lookin' less likely, now that we've spotted it an' shit still hasn't gone awry._ He closes your eyes—his, as well, presumably—to think. _Might be they just want us scared, not actually hurt. Or..._

"Or?"

_Or it's possible that the magic a’ our coven is just that much stronger than whatever they're tryin' to throw at us._

It give you pause—he doesn't sound completely certain, but he sounds certain enough to ease some of your fears. It's enough, even if it wouldn't have been enough at another time, another day. "How likely do you think that is?"

_I think...I think if that's the actual case, then...I'm not actually sure how much longer it'll hold out._

 

And that cuts down the scant comfort you'd felt.


	8. if you could say

You sprawl out in bed and stare up at your ceiling. One day, you'd gone down to find out what was and wasn't allowed by the board, and then you'd gone straight home and done up the whole damn room in sea greens and starry blues, painting yourself out into the middle of the ocean, your bed for a boat and the carpets a tide. You like it; you feel safest amongst the stars and seas, and from the vague feelings that would drift in and out of your mind, once upon a time, you have a feeling that it always helped Danny too. Now he can tell you himself, that he likes the colors, that he'd like you to add a few more rows of fairy lights, that he himself wouldn't mind adding a thing or two.

"I've been thinking about renting a house," you murmur to him. Today, he's a shade, sitting cross-legged on the far end of your bed, watching you watch the false sky high above. "Space enough for all four a us. Something so we can each...pitch in, make it a little bit more homey."

"That sounds pretty damn good to me, Cro," he murmurs, tilting his head back. Indistinct as he is, you can still see most of him, as long as you ignore the fact that you can see every fairy light's glow right through his shape. "I might do my room up like this, maybe. Or skies, from ceilin' to floor. Do you think Fef an' Sol would be on board?"

"They certainly seem to enjoy all crashing here, don't they? Even if it's not their first choice, I think they'd come around to the topic eventually." You know what Eridan knows: you've been turning this over and over in your head, enough that you've almost constructed the house up around you. "We could have a space for ourselves. A garden that Fef and I could work in—if you'd want to as well?"

Eridan grins, sitting himself back up. "Honestly, Cro, plants have always been a little more a your domain, but I think I'd maybe be willin' to give the whole deal a shot."

You toss a pillow at him, and he manages to catch it, a little gesture that sends a delighted thrill through you. "How're you feeling then, about the...gods, I don't know. Everything. The flowers. The coven, the, everything, I guess?"

"Don't quite know how to feel," he admits, shifting down to rest his head back against the pillow. "Covens don't usually...bond like that, unless there's some weird fuckshit involved, y'know? I don't understand why it happened for us, nothin'...nothin' has ever really worked out right for you an' me, y'know?"

 

You can't argue with that, and he knows it, which makes it a little worse than either of you would like. Admitting to painful shit has never been an Ampora forte, a trait you'd both inherited from relatives too numerous to count. "Easiest to live in denial when you're ankle deep in the middle a shit river," you mumble, closing your eyes. Eridan kicks your shoulder, but in a sympathetic sort of way. "Thanks, bro."

"Any time. An' look, I'm not sayin' all hope is lost, I'm just...maybe we need to look into shit. Sort things out a little more."

When you crack an eye open and look at him, he seems a little more solid, but he's also blushing and thoroughly embarrassed, a complex combination of signals that you're not completely sure how to take. "Yeah?"

"Well, yeah," he says, shoulders hunching in. "What other options have we got?"

"You know that if you want us to sort shit, you're gonna need to open up an' actually talk about what happened that night." As much as you've tried to protect him from everything involved with his death, there's a little voice in the back of your head (that, for once in your life, does _not_ sound like Eridan) telling you that he needs to face up to his worst fears.

“I know that,” he mumbles, but given the way he’s refusing to look up at you, he hasn’t quite come to terms with it.

“Dan,” you start, and he shakes his head hard, his distress unbalancing him enough that he starts to fade in and out of your vision. “Hey—”

 _Don’t_.

His tone is so sharp that it makes you flinch back, your outstretched hand curling into a closed fist. "Fine." You have to force the word out from between your gritted teeth, and you imagine for a moment that it cuts you to shreds to do so. Arguing with Danny? That's not who you are, that's not what you do. This isn't right, and it won't get you anywhere.

 _We used to argue all the time,_ his voice whispers in your head, and you can't shake a shiver at the way it sounds...wistful, and relieved, all at once. _S'kinda nice, gettin' along like this._

"Yeah," you say, and even though the word falls from you easier than "fine" did, it feels like it weighs a thousand times more. "It's nice."

 

* * *

 

When you look up in the mirror, you realize your face is clean and you don't remember shaving.

 

It's been another few days, but you've only got a handful of memories from them—the rest are like things you've seen in a movie theater, a compilation of YouTube videos that are only tangentially related. Eridan is still uncertain about sharing his—admittedly deeply traumatic—memories, the fritillaria are still fucking _everywhere_ , and you—

You've been trying to help him get past this block however you can. If that means letting yourself work overtime as a ghostly sort of timeshare, fine, you're willing.

At least.

You're willing up until you're part of the way through breakfast, flipping through new memories as you check the messages on your phone (that he'd thankfully responded to, just the way you would), and you find one of a kiss.

 _Several_ kisses, in fact, one memory of your hand settling on the small of Feferi's back, the other tangling into her curling hair, another memory of Sollux smirking down at you just before you'd yanked him in close— _and you do not remember doing any of this._

There's only one explanation, and said explanation is currently sulking in the back of your mind where you can't _quite_ reach him—you could barely even see him in the mirror, today, which makes things _incredibly_ unusual.

 

It doesn't stop him from snapping to attention when you set your phone down on the wooden table with a final-sounding _thunk_.

 

"What the hell did you think you were doing, Eridan Ampora."

He doesn't respond, but then, you didn't expect him to. Hell's bells, if he'd tried—

You'll think about what you would have done later.

"You knew—you _know_ how I felt about them, feel about them. You had no fucking right to do that shit while you were in control." You want to say you would have agreed if he'd asked. You want to tell him that it's something the two of you could have talked about, maybe even talked out, come to some kind of conclusion before shit got too bad, before it was too late.

But now it _is_ too late, and all you can feel is that icy cold rage you'd inherited from your father, sinking into your skin, lacing heavy through your veins.

You hate that it feels like a welcome friend, almost as much as you hate the way it scares Eridan into visibility once more. When he appears, you stare him down with all the frozen patience of a glacier, and it doesn't take long for him to crack.

"It wasn't like you were ever goin' to act on anythin', Cro! I was doin' us both a favor, I knew how _you_ felt, an' I knew how _I_ felt, an' I wanted all four a us to be happy—" The whine in his voice, the pleading look in his eyes, all of it adds up to him being desperate for you to understand where he's coming from, why he did it.

The thing is, you all too easily can. It's not like you hadn't thought about it before—making a move on Sollux and Feferi, who seem to be as much of a package deal as you and your not-so-friendly little ghost. You can imagine cutting him out of the picture as easily as he'd done with you.

You just hadn't wanted to think it was something either of you would actually stoop to.

 

So you uncurl your fists, and pick up your phone, and make a decision: if he's going low, you'll do the same, and do it better, too. "Fine," you tell him, and it's not even through gritted teeth, and from the fear in his eyes, you're pretty godsdamn sure he can tell you really mean it.

 

Kuroyuri and cursed brothers be damned.


	9. what we should do

Two texts are all it takes to bring your high morals as low as Dan's must've sunk. They're at Feferi's apartment—or at least, Feferi is, and Sollux says he'll meet you guys there—and when you show up, cold to the bone from the sudden storm that "sprung up" (you're going to fucking kill Eridan for that, you know his specialties and the taste of his magic all too well), they trade worried looks before they hurry you off to get warmed up. You don't want to think about what they're concerned about. You do _not_ want to think about the circumstances under which Eridan took _your_ godsdamn body for a joyride.

It seems, though, that they'd anticipated something like this, and you can't fucking _begin_ to imagine if it's the coven bond, their own natural perceptive abilities, or some shit Eridan's told them.

 

You're still angry, and you want to keep being angry: you finish the hot shower they insisted you take and ignore the clothes they'd left out for you.

Their reaction to the sight of you in a towel, bare chested and dripping with hot water and steam, is incredibly gratifying.

 

"Uh," Sollux says, red rising up his neck as he glances at Feferi, who's already got pink high in her cheeks. "Hhhhow are you doing there, buddy?"

"Eridan wouldn't give me straight answers on what happened," you say, looking straight at them, calm focus the only thing you let show in your eyes. "I was hoping you guys might."

Trading glances seems to be the hot new thing, and you nearly call them on it. If it weren't for the hunter's patience your father instilled deep in your bones, you would've. As it is, you're about to speak when Feferi finally opens her mouth. "We...we kissed."

"I gathered," you say, and she bites down on her lip, like she's feeling a level of guilt she can't quite put into words. You can almost feel it rippling off of her, rolling through the bond between the three-four of you. "Care to fill me in on the rest of it?"

"Maybe when you calm down, CO." Sollux looks a hell of a lot less apologetic, almost as calm as you are yourself, as he meets your eyes. You imagine they're cold enough to give someone less warm the shivers. "All this shit we're in, it's _strange_ , none of us have the right answers, and taking it out on me and FF isn't going to make you feel any better. Even if you think it will."

That cuts. That cuts more than you want it to—that they'd known, that they'd left you out of it—and you turn to go, wondering if your head's the source of your pain or if maybe it's your heart. _This is because you're feeling left out, and it's making you wonder if they don't want you around anymore,_ you think, but you don't want to consider what you're hearing in your head. You think it's _not_ Eridan saying it, not Eridan tacking on, _they didn't know you were back to yourself until just now,_ but you can't be sure anymore.

You want to stay angry. You want to burn with it, because you've spent the past few days drifting in and out, you hadn't gotten the hang of maintaining a presence nearly as well as Eridan had, and it fucking burns that you're not as good as your brother in this as well.

 

And then before you can go, two sets of hands find you and pull you back in.

 

You put up half a struggle, a fifth of a fight, and then you're on their couch, Sollux pressed against your back and Feferi in your lap. It's not until soft hands are on you, wiping tears away, that you realize you've been crying. It's not until Sollux's lips brush your ear that you realize they've been speaking, soft murmurs and quiet things.

They're patient, though. When you follow their voices with a confused noise, Feferi repeats: "I was comforting him."

"Weird flex, but okay," Sollux says, and it lacks so much of his usual immediacy that you know they're recreating what they said for you. "I was pissing him off, to uh, comfort him, I guess."

"You were distracting him by pissing him off."

It's still not enough. You need to know everything, you need to know more. "Why?"

Your voice sounds awful, rough and wrong, and you wince at the sound of it, before they soothe your fears away once more. Feferi goes first again: "You get...hazy, faint, sometimes, when you let Eridan take over. He was starting to get worried that you wouldn't come back, if you let him take control one time too many."

"Sometimes you showed up more when you felt particularly strongly about something," Sollux adds, resting his chin on your shoulder. "We theorized that certain emotions made it easier for you to access...well, yourself."

"You make it sound like Dan was _trying_ to get me pissed off so I'd run over here all angry—"

Another glance, and then a shrug from Sollux and an apologetic look from Feferi. "We don't know for sure if that's what happened," she says, reaching out to brush your curls back from your eyes, "but he mentioned something about a plan he had? It wouldn't be that far a stretch to assume..."

"He said he wanted to make sure you wouldn't...keep up the way you've been doing," Sollux says, and now, _now_ , he finally looks as if he feels as bad as you, as Feferi, as that faint feeling of Eridan behind your chest, seem to. "I think he meant it, this time. When he said he didn't want to trade with you anymore, if shit was going to end up like this."

You're less angry, which makes it a hell of a lot easier to grasp why you'd been so angry—why you'd wanted to _stay_ angry—in the first place. Eridan had been pushing on it, stoking the flames of fury you'd already been feeling that much higher, as if—

 

As if it was his desperate last attempt to keep you focused on something.

Fuck. You already have all of the answers that you need; you know Eridan too damn well for this shit, and sometimes, you _really_ hate how well _he_ knows _you_.

“He wanted me to come here,” you say, looking up at Feferi. She nods, and you turn back towards Sollux. “Did he plan all this shit out with you two?” When he looks away, you decide that you’ve had enough.

 

Feferi’s lips are as sweet as your memory of them, even when she’s flustered from the way you haul her up against your bare chest—and they part beneath yours as her thighs spread further apart, settling her squarely in your lap. _Fuck_ , you think, and drag your fingertips down the length of her spine, cloth bunching as you touch her. Behind you, Sollux shivers, like all of the attention you’re giving Feferi is echoing back for him as well. Gods, you hope it is—you want him, her, to feel everything and more.

Then again, though, it might just be those sounds you’re getting from her, sending all those little shudders through his body, pressing him up against you in all sorts of excellent ways.

 

You leave Feferi breathless, then turn back to kiss Sollux the same—a little more fire and bite with him might be Eridan’s way, but you’d like to hollow this boy out, maybe save a little of your sharp-edged sparks for the too-sweet girl in your lap.

That girl laughs, when you deepen Sollux’s kiss, and you echo it back (deeper, darker) when you feel his reactions against your back. “Gods,” you murmur, and then it’s your turn to be kissed, thoroughly, twice over.

Feferi’s not wearing a bra, a fact you’re delighted to discover. One of your hoodies can’t hide the truth for very long, and you twist a hand into her hair as you trace up her skin. “Don’t get too excited,” she gasps against your mouth. “The shirt’s Sollux’s.” You are excited, and you know she can feel it, from the way her hips roll down against yours.

“Which one is it?” Sollux has stripped off his shirt, with some encouragement from Feferi, trying to reach around you to tug it off, but the red that seems permanently attached to his skin doesn’t seem to impede his quick wit all that much. “I swear, if it’s the—”

She leans over you to kiss him, an open-mouthed thing that has you groaning between the two of them, grinding back against his hips and rocking up against hers. The second she comes up for air, you tilt things—Feferi is easy to pin back against the couch, the lever to turn the creaky couch into a pullout bed is easy to grab once you’re half-sprawled across her, and the sound Sollux makes when your towel falls will live in your heart fondly forever.

Hands slide up your skin, as you’re ridding Feferi of the stolen layers she’s got on, and you turn to meet Sollux—stop, as his teeth drag against your shoulder, over one of the rare markings you’d gotten to pick yourself—a question in your eyes. “You’d better know how fucking pretty you are, Ampora, I swear—”

It gets another laugh out of you, and when you turn back to Feferi, she’s already stripped down to underwear and nothing else. Your raised eyebrow is met with a cocky sort of smirk, and that kind of challenge—

Well, you’re nothing if not capable of easily rising to it. “Captor, c’mere and kiss her, she’s gonna start squirming—” He scrambles to obey, and you’re grateful for it when you press kisses all over silk and lace (violet, with golden accents, your girl is nothing if not dedicated) and she twists, all of her pretty little noises caught between kisses and thin air. When you actually catch dampened cloth between your teeth and start tugging down, you think she’s going to die, then and there.

You’re going to enjoy letting her beg for mercy.

 

Then again, you didn’t expect them to pull _this_ shit.

 

Sollux’s hands are on you once more, and Feferi reaches over the side of the couch—hm.

You’re a champ at working through the worst situations of shit, but even _you_ were not expecting to be beaned in the head with a condom. When something curiously close to a growl runs through your chest, Feferi laughs, and you haul her into your arms for another kiss, and it’s distracting, distracting—

—that’s Sollux, behind you, and that’s his hand, stroking down your side, over your ass, and—

“—just say the word, CO, and we—”

You don’t have time for this conversation, not when you’re operating on instinct and the faint traces of anger Eridan worked so hard to build and the longings you’d been feeling for too godsdamn long. “Fuck, _please_ ,” you say, and Sollux’s answering noise is another one for the history books.

“Spread your thighs,” he says, and his voice is rough enough to make you proud. “Here.”

The lube he passes you is the same quality that you use for yourself, and you make an approving sound as you flick the cap open—or try to. Feferi’s hand is a bit of an impediment, and you have to raise an eyebrow at her.

 

She raises one right back at you. “Seriously? Condom on first, dude.”

“Peixes,” you say, amusement and exasperation combined in your tone, “you’re really ruining the atmosphere here.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” she says, plucking the condom out of your hands and tearing the package open with her teeth. Fuck, you’re unbelievably turned on right now. “Go on ahead, then, I’ll take care of—”

“I got it,” you insist. Your voice is nearly as rough as Sollux’s, and you think you’re gonna die, maybe, if she tries to put that thing on you right now. Putting it on yourself, however, is enough distraction to get you at least a _little_ calmed down once more. “You guys have good taste in lube.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Sollux coos in your ear, and you yelp when his fingers, slick with said lube, press against you. “Relax, holy shit. I bought both basic types.”

“Oh, my god,” you mutter. Feferi laughs under you, and your free hand curls around her thigh. “Keep it up, doll, and I _swear_ I’ll get you back for it.”

“I’m counting on it!” She drapes one leg overtop your shoulder, and you roll your eyes at her antics, finally opening the bottle and covering your _own_ fingers in slick. Because you’re an asshole in an asshole mood, you don’t wait for your body heat to warm them up, and you take a possibly unfair amount of delight in the way she cries out at your touch.

“Someone has a thing for temperature play,” Sollux mutters, and you smirk. “No, I meant you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Captor.”

“Too busy setting up to do you, babe.”

"You're real fucking bad at this flirting thing, you know," is all you can tell him, before you're busy making a few decent noises of your own.


	10. then I think I could do anything for you

There's something about the way the three of you fit together. Sollux is warm, focused when he wants to be, a surprising balance of patience and impatience. Feferi is insistent, lively and enticing always, drawing you in before you even realize she has. They’re both determined to keep you here, make you feel as wanted and loved as you want to make them feel. It’s as overwhelming as it is comforting.

When you press inside your girl, Sollux tries to distract you. He's excellent at giving you the attention you ache for, but you know you're single-minded enough not to lose focus—yet. Much as you'd like to sink back into it, you've got your own attention to give, and you'd be lying to yourself—and them—if you said Feferi and Sollux weren't every bit as deserving as you yourself are. "Ass," you mutter, and Sollux laughs against your shoulder as he works you open, determined little movements that have your hips jerking forward, burying you even deeper between Feferi's thighs.

As it is, the only reason you haven't registered more in the way of complaint is—maybe  you ought to say the only reasons are, given that all of your reasons have to do with each and every one of the pretty little sounds Feferi's making. That doesn't stop you from letting out a growl when Sollux has the gall to say, "So what do you think, FF? Is he ready?" That shitty twink is _lucky_ that you're caught up in a beautiful woman, and therefore _far_ too busy to exact your revenge on him.

 

Then again, you fairly quickly decide that you just might have to get some revenge on that beautiful woman when she tells him, "No, but go for it anyway."

 

To add to Feferi's thighs bracketing your hips, you have Sollux's hands on your waist, you have the feeling of warmth pressed up against your back and softness to your front, of being completely surrounded by your coven and all the care they have to give. It’s a damn wonderful feeling, filling and being filled, and your hands curl into the soft spread of Feferi’s hair as you bend over her—as Sollux pushes into you—all but gasping for breath. “Fef,” you mumble, the endearment you’ve avoided for this long, had planned to avoid for longer still.

She laughs again, a rippling thing, pale blues and greens, and when you turn back to look at Sollux, you’d imagine that your eyes are as lost at sea as you feel.

Lightning and bright colors echo back a seaspun laugh, and he kisses you, with all the unbound meaning of a storm. “Fuck, maybe we should get you like this more often, you’re like, fifty times more tolerable this way—”

It’s easy to shove into the kiss again, a little more in the way of teeth and tongue, and his laughter dies on your lips, focused intensity sharpening his gaze once more. You like him like this, you like Feferi like this (underneath you, her hips matching time to yours, all her attention on you), and you find that you like it when they lean over one of your broad shoulders to kiss each other, too.

“Enjoying the view?” You don’t get to give a yea or nay before Feferi’s hips just— _jerk_ , and then you’re crying out, sprawling face first onto the couch, barely catching yourself on the armrest. Her nails cut crescents into your back (you can’t fucking wait to see them), and Sollux groans against your shoulder (you’d maybe reacted a little too hard, tightening up around him like you did), and you roll your hips down, grind back, an uncertain rhythm that they take and perfect—

 

The world, it seems, is determined to remove decisions from your hands, and you know? You’re fine with that. You’re fine with losing your godsdamn mind in the give and take of their movements; you’re fine with Sollux fucking you deeper into Feferi, hard enough to make her finish, and you’re definitely fine with how beautiful she is when she does; you’re fine with shuddering your way to your own orgasm against Feferi’s chest, as her hands comb through your hair, and you are incredibly fine with Sollux pinning you where you are as he spills inside you—

It’s _very_ easy to be fine with just about everything when you’re blissed out on this many endorphins, and you’d be willing to stay like this—Sollux’s touch on your skin as he checks you for injuries, Feferi’s hands in your curls as she tries to coax you into movement once more, but—

Gods, you could learn to _hate_ those buts. You think maybe you already have, and your brain thinks that now would maybe be a good time to take a break, and your body decides to go quiet, your eyes slipping shut as you go under.

 

* * *

 

You are in Feferi’s bed when you come to next, and Feferi and Sollux are tucked in on either side of you, talking quietly with each other. Between the two of them, they’ve managed to clean you up and get you into some spare clothes you vaguely remember leaving behind—you’re pretty sure the boxers are Sollux’s, though—as well as shower off themselves.

“Cleaning cantrip,” Feferi says, when you glance up at her. You hadn’t realized how obvious your questions were in your eyes, you’ll have to work on that. “Easy stuff.”

“Easier than a shower in this situation.” Sollux grins at you, an expression that slips when you don’t return it. “What’s up?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier to be comfortable with them, relax in their arms, trade a kiss or two or three, but—

 

You really, _really_ hate those buts.

 

Feferi gives you a sympathetic look, but she doesn’t seem willing to let you dodge that easily. “Like ripping off a bandaid, Cro.”

So you take a deep breath, and shift up as much as you can—not much, _fuck_ does that ever ache real nice—to look at them, and say: “We need to find the originator of the curse, and I’d bet every last cent I had that it’s—”

 

They hear the ghostly echo as much as you do, Eridan’s voice confirming what you already know: _Da._

**Author's Note:**

> Big Bang 2019 is finally over and it has been a fucking RIDE. collaborating with liasangria is always 10/10, and honestly, it has been one of the dreams of my young fandom life to pull something like that off again, after all the fun we had with HSWC.  
> Bean, thank you again for the stellar beta work and the research you did into plants (so that I didn't have to) and time and effort you spent finding me _alternative_ plants every time my first picks did not work out
> 
> To all the readers—yes, there's more coming. Shit's about to get happening up in here.


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